Once Upon a Dream
by Petite.Girl.com
Summary: Their story began many years before the modern world. They ruled the night. Taking revenge on the world. While He could no longer live with his wrong doings, She could never leave her progeny. The chance they need to make it right will come around. But will He agree?
1. Rome wasn't all they thought

_**AN- Hello pretties! Here is the long awaited Chapter One! So While I'm sure you know I'm NOT Charlene Harris nor any of the show writers, therefore anyone or anywhere you recognise has been given to me on loan, if it doesn't get your spidey senses tingling, then it's most likely from the corners of my dark, twisted little mind! Enjoy and don't forget, find me on FB to keep up to date with chapters, fanfics, and the occasional vlog post on www DOT facebook DOT com SLASH PetiteGirlcom Much love pretties! PG!**_

20BC Rome

Bannon was scared. He'd been stuck in this 'box' for 3 days. Without food or water, just the heat. Many of his companions had passed on, or where near that. Little Bannon though was used to this form of torture, his body small body was far more resilient than then older, fatter boys. Every so often the box would cease it's gentle rocking. He could hear the footmen drop to the ground and the horses being unlatched. Occasionally, the door of the box would open, bright light flooding the small space. The men would grab one of the few girls, she would fight with tiny amount of energy she had left, kicking and screaming. Then the door would shut once more. Bannon could hear everything for his spot in the box. The girl would continue shouting, begging for mercy. The men would laugh and shout back in a foreign tongue. A loud SLAP would be heard and then a thud. Usually the girls stopped screaming at that point. Sometimes he could hear them whimper while the men laughed. After 20 minutes or so, the girl would be thrown back into the box. Her face would be stained with tears, her flesh marred by large purple bruises. Her clothes would be torn and dusty and her legs would be smeared with blood.

Just as Bannon was succumbing to the darkness through thirst and starvation, he felt the box stop moving once more. He saw the remaining girls start to shake and whimper. The few boys with any strength left shuffled slightly to hid them. However when the door opened, no one was left behind. Even the dead were dragged into the courtyard. Bannon could feel the sunlight burning his eyes from their sockets as they stood in a line in front of a large man, his tunic strained against his chest muscles.

"Strip." he said. Bannon had never heard that language before. None of them had. Again the man repeated the word. The third time he screamed it. Still no one moved. He then reached forward and grabbed the youngest female child. He took out his blade and sliced the remains of her dress from her small body, leaving her naked in front of the other men and children. Wide eyed the children followed suit, each removing the last of their garments.

The line of naked children was pushed into an old barn like cattle. Bannon saw the indoor lake they had built. It had high wooden sides and the water looked dark and cold. The line was herded into the 'lake' then handed cheap grainy bars of soap. It was obvious to even the most feral child what they were to do. One of the older girls moved over to Bannon, they had been from the same village. Her name was Enid. She was maybe six or seven winters older then him and often cared for him back home.

"Here, Little one." she smiled softly, Bannon noticed she was missing teeth now. And a clump of her hair. She rubbed the soap into his hair and over his small body, then grabbed a rough stone to help her scrub the dirt and smell of death from his flesh. Carefully, she dragged her nails over his scalp, untangling his mane of dark hair. "Listen to me, Little One, whatever they say, just do it. Don't fight them. Agree." her warm hazel eyes met Bannon's stormy grey. He could see the pain behind them and the last few sparks of fight hidden under the pain.

"Out. Now!" one of the men stood in the door way shouting in the same unusual language. The children stopped their bathing, but none moved. Until one of the men pulled out his blade. There was no line this time, the children resembled cattle more and more as their hope left them – stupidly and blinding following shouts they did not understand.

Each body was inspected by an elderly woman. Bannon stood shaking in the cold room, Enid held him against her side humming quietly, soothing the small boy. Bannon shrieked as he was jerked away from his comfort by large sweaty hands. One of the hands made it's way around his neck, letting the man drag the boy across the stone floor to the old woman. One rough hand was replaced by another, smaller one around his neck. The woman twisted Bannon's head from side to side, peering through his hair and into his ears. She pulled on his eyelids and forcefully parted his jaws. She then moved lower down the boys body, her eyes searching every inch of him. Whenever she came across a blemish on his skin she pressed it, making sure the dirty purple stain faded, that it would heal. When she was happy she nodded her weathered head once, and Bannon was dragged away to the heath. He was pinned to the ground by one man while another laughed grabbing something from the fire. Bannon felt the metal sear his skin. He kicked and yelled, tears falling freely from his eyes. The two men laughed harder at his pain. When they had admired their handy work, one of the men kicked Bannon through another arch.

A younger woman, about his Mamma's age, looked him up and down, pity in her eyes. She motioned for him to come to her. Bannon didn't move from the floor. So she got up from her bench, her strange flowing dress gently swaying as she walked, stopping just before Little Bannon. He winced, anticipating more pain. Instead he felt her soft hands grab him under his arms and pull him upwards and into her chest. She sang softly as she slipped a white tunic of Bannon's head and sat him on the bench. She continued singing as she soothed and dressed each child that came through her arch way.

Then he heard it. A female begging for her life, pleading with those evil men. His eyes skimmed over the children on the bench. Only Enid was missing. Bannon was up and running to the arch before the gentle woman noticed he'd even moved. He couldn't see her ace, but he could hear Enid crying. Two men had knocked her too her knees, stretching her chest and pulling on her arms. Another stood in front of her, spinning a small dagger in his hand. The blade was twisted and gnarled. Bannon could tell the blade was sharp even if it hadn't been made by an overly skilled smithy. The man moved quickly, striking at Enid. He repeated the motion, pulling the blade now dripping with crimson liquid, high above his head. Bannon heard Enid whimper as the men grabbed her hair, pulling her head up. One quick slash and Enid's head dropped. The men holding her arms let her go, Bannon watched as her body fell limp, hitting the ground with a thump. The man threw the blade on to Enid's lifeless form, watching the pool that now surrounded her pale, starved body. Bannon ran. Not out of the hut, not back towards the gentle woman tending to the other children, but towards the body that once belonged to his friend. Tears streaming down his little face, the grabbed the blade, his feet momentarily passing through the warm life source leaving Enid's flesh. Holding the blade tight, Bannon launched himself at the man with blood on his hands. He used every ounce of the little strength he had left to plunge the blade deep into the man's chest. He then pulled it out and dug it again into the man, over and over he let his pain and anger control the blade, into his chest, arms and face.

It took two men to drag Little Bannon from the fallen man. They took him to a separate room. Cold metal was looped around his wrists and ankles, chaining him to the wall. One man raised his fist and punch the boy straight in the face, the other spat at him. Little Bannon did not cry.


	2. But he needed her

_**A/N - So you know the drill- recognisable ain't mine (Just fun to play with!) Originally this was going to go another way BUT my minds a little too into the current plot line... whether we'll use it as a rough guide later - I'm not sure... **_

_**PS. sorry it's taken so long! Really been struggling with my health! Honest! **_

2013 Shreveport.

Eric sat in the pokey front room of his smallest, least 'vampire' property. While the smell of musk and damp hung heavy around the dark room, Eric knew it was only from lack of use, he paid a cleaning team to make sure all 5 of his homes in the area got the full spic-and-span treatment every day. While he sat, he thought to his last meeting with his sister. She was adamant on tracking Warlow. She thought contacting their estranged sister and her psychotic children was the best way forward – that Her age and skill set would prove effective, along with the abilities of her youngest Childe, a rather accomplished tracker and swift huntsman – even for Vampires. Nora however forgot that wherever their Sister goes, her eldest will follow like a rather large and murderous sheep – or a particularly potent bad smell. He had always been within a 10 mile radius of their Sister from the first night she took him to ground. He also had three rather distinct personalities. Two of them, Eric could cope with – he was easy to control in those states. The third, however, made some of Eric's earlier days look the exploits of a bad tempered kitten.

Eric couldn't understand why the thought to call Her still played on his mind. It was a bad idea. He hadn't even officially told her about Godric's final parting. Something told him she knew, even if their last meeting had her running from their large Chicagoan home, tears staining her gown, shouting bitterly in a language older then Eric. He did ask his maker over the tantrum – it seemed, almost human – Her tantrums usually resulted in the destruction of a town or two, and no matter how long Eric waiting, absent mindedly flicking through all the local papers for some unexplained town plague or fire – but nothing came about. Godric had laughed when his Children had approached him, simply saying maybe she'd matured over the years – that she'd come back. As far as Eric knew, that was the last time the pair that had lived so long together spent time in the same country.

While Eric so desperately wanted to keep her away, part of him needed her. She was as good as his mother. When he was young and brutish, Godric let him play wild, they hunted together, fed together, mindlessly murdered together. But She was always there too, she nursed the young vampire as he wept for his lost family. She faced his anger when he realised he was no longer a warrior, a great being of a man that would surely be welcomed to Valhalla with open arms, but just a monster. She took the edge to let Godric mentor him. Some deep inner child needed Her there again, to guide him through these stupid laws. And get around them in only the way a Roman Princess could.

Before Eric could convince his body calling Her was a good idea, the front door of the little wooden home burst open, his new grand-baby vamp was there. In front of him. Tara was strange – for one so young she had much control over his new abilities. It took Eric a moment to see the fear in the back of her dark eyes.

"They've got Pam." those where the only words he needed. He may have realised Pamela, but she was still his Child.

"Stay here. Understand me? There's a cubby in the back room – it's worse than Ginger's but it's light tight." He stood grabbing his cell, he'd try Nora first.

"No, no, no where the hell do you think you're going?" The small dark skinned vampire squared herself to Eric's large form. "We gotta go get Pam! We can't just leave he-" He grabbed her cheeks, pushing her mouth into an unattractive 'fish' impersonation. He smirked as mocha eyes widened in fear.

"I will get her. You wait for me to call." And he left. Though he was still close enough to hear her spit the word 'fucker' before slamming the door again.

As he ran he dialled Nora. Each time reaching nothing but 'out of service' he growled wishing his sister had at least one progeny – that way he'd be able to find her. Recent events, though, had led to why – she was too busy with that religious crap to think of anything else. With a grunt, Eric retrained his thoughts – he's spent long enough with their sister to hopefully find her mental presence.

He'd been stood stationary for thirty minutes before he felt anything that even had a chance of being her. Just the tip of the faintest memory of that fresh citric sweet scent that oozed from her every pour. Eric had never met anyone who smelt quite like her. With one more long inhale, he forced himself into the skies. His mind still ahead of what his nose had found. He felt his mind hit a brick wall. He chuckled – there was only so many times she could stick her fingers up at him and he actually care. She was closer then he thought. He'd never expected her to only be one State over. Maybe the old ones had reconciled in the last decade?

Eric snorted as he landed, taking in the views around him. A large plot of land neatly patchworked with white painted fences, a large modernised farmhouse at the end of the perfectly paved drive way and two large red and white barns standing proudly against the stars. Large, sculpted equines occupied some of the patches of land and more could be heard in the barns. He's proud, perfect, Roman sister was living the American dream!

Eric didn't need to announce himself at the door. As his foot hit the first step it swung open, Her youngest leaned against the frame – Cocky shit.

"Dear Uncle! To what do we owe the pleasure!" It wasn't a question. It was just politeness. Hylton was bored, picking at his nails.

"Where is she, boy?" Eric pushed past the smaller vampire. Hylton was easy to bully- he never fought back. Eric sometimes wondered if it was because he was in some way mentally retarded. Then he remembered just quite how useful Hylton was – and how much he wound Her up. He didn't want to start a knitting circle with the boy, but he approved of him.

"Somewhere."

"I know that. Where?"

"Here." That was it. Eric's large hand found the arrogant morons throat, he forcibly pinned his nephew to the hallway wall, shattering the plaster around the younger vampire's body.

"Tell me."

"Release him."

Eric turned his head to the all too familiar voice but didn't drop his hand. Her polished riding boots had traces of yellow manufactured sand stuck to the soles. They were knee high and close fitting, giving way to tight – second skin we're talking- tan pants that caused a small rumble in Eric's chest. He wasn't proud of that. Her torso was wrapped with a thin black high necked sweat shirt. The black just made her sweet smelling skin paler and her reddish-golden hair brighter. And it also made her icy blue eyes colder.

"Vita. You look, well, fuckable."

"Eric. You look, well, like a dead man if you don't drop my child." she clicked her fangs and stood with her legs apart and hands on her hips. Eric obliged. While she was more then half his size, she'd handed him his arse on more then one occasion.

"Sister, My child – is missing. Humans have her." in a way only a true noble could, Vita scoffed and still looked attractive doing so.

"She is atleast a hundred years old! Why should I believe you?"

"They are capturing our kind, with weapons like never before. There's rumours they are torturing those they find." Vita's cold glare still did not budge. What did she care or her brother's ignorant wench? "Please, Vita, in all our years have I ever begged you? Would I come to your aid if it was one of yours?" Vita's eyes flicked to the dark haired vampire on the floor then back to Eric. "If not for Pam, then for me. One thousand years, Vita, do they mean nothing to you?"

"Hylton, get your brother."

"He wont like it." Hylton mumbled getting to his feet to find his sibling. Vita threw the Vampire a look and he went about his 'chore' much faster. Eric made a mental note to ask her how she did that, he needed it for when Pam returned.

"Vita, I need to tell you something." Eric stepped towards to doll sized Vampire. He softly stroked her cheek. "It's about Godric. He's -"

"Gone." She looked straight into Eric's eyes, and like many times before, Eric felt like she was looking straight into his soul. Like she was searching his memories, digging out his emotions. "Two thousand years and far more then enough blood between us. Those years meant far more to me then the thousand with you."


End file.
